


What we Do

by BlunderGod (PompousPickle)



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Divorce, Gen, M/M, Sex mentioned, Supportive Kenshi, alcohol mentioned, sad things with Johnny and Sonya as always
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:43:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4462427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PompousPickle/pseuds/BlunderGod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenshi knew it had been a hard day from the atmosphere of the bar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What we Do

**Author's Note:**

> From a request for some Johnny/Kenshi. I hardcore ship these two platonically, you have no idea. But there is some more romantic/sexual things implied.

Kenshi knew it had been a hard day from the atmosphere of the bar. Johnny picked a small dive joint, smelling of sweat and tobacco. The air was stiff and humid, packed with bodies swarming the bartender with their orders. And the music was suffocated by the sounds of people talking, desperate for attention and searching for good time.

Johnny only came to bars like this when he was intent on forgetting his own name, even tattooed on his own chest.

“I know you’re curious,” Johnny shouted to him, handing him another drink. Kenshi sniffed it, trying to identify it by smell. Something with tequila, from what he could tell, heavy with the smell of fruit. “But I told you that I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I recall.” Kenshi shrugged and took a swig of the drink anyway. Deceptively strong, he decided, despite the sugary sweet smell and taste.

“But you’re still thinking of using that magic brain of yours.” Johnny leaned over on his stool and tapped Kenshi’s temples, sending his glasses slightly askew. Kenshi thought it unwise to wear the blindfold and carry Sento to civilian territory. Tonight, as most nights with Johnny, he opted for the white cane and sunglasses.

“I didn’t realize you could read minds too,” Kenshi drawled, all too sarcastically. It was true though; he had thought about invading his friend’s private thoughts. He knew that little would come from it, however. With his mind clouded by two drinks and nearly four shots, Johnny could likely think about anything very clearly.

“I can see it. In your…well not your eyes. But in your...head…tilting,” Johnny tried to explain, leaning back on his stool to get a better look at his friend.  Kenshi was handsome, even when he was doing that head tilt. The one that always betrayed what he was listening to and what he was planning. No, Johnny decided, he was especially handsome when he did that. “You’ve usually sniffed out the prettiest girl in the bar by now. Convinced her to go home with you.”

“Generally, _I_ end up going home with _them_ ,” Kenshi corrected. Johnny was right again. Usually nights out with his friend were a lot more active. It gave Kenshi an excuse to have a little fun, and gave him a place to stay other than the small apartment that Special Forces provided him.

“Hey! Erik, my man!” Johnny said, shouting to the bartender. It had taken him all of five seconds to learn the bartender’s name and become friends with him.  Kenshi had to admire that about the man. Not many people liked Johnny in the heat of Kombat. But in civilian life, he was hard to dislike, despite his bombastic personality. “Gonna buy some more drinks! For…” Johnny spun around, looking around the bar. “Brunette in the red halter top. Cute firefighter with the buzz cut,” he pointed them out to the bartender as he glanced around.

“How about her?” Kenshi suggested, pointing in the direction of a woman with a deep laugh. “She’s lonely tonight,” he said, sensing her thoughts. “Could use a free drink from a movie star.”

Johnny paused for a moment, looking the woman over. She was wearing a black button-down and skin-tight jeans. She had blonde hair and bright blue eyes. But her hair was too short, and her eyes the wrong shape. The nose was all wrong. She was too tall, too skinny. But still, Johnny couldn’t look at her without thinking of...

“Yeah. Get her a drink too. On me,” Johnny finally said. He just wanted to throw his money around, make someone happy. He couldn’t please everyone. He had found that out the hard way. No matter how hard you work and how much you try, someone will always call you a fake. Someone will always try to kill you. Someone will always be unhappy with you, and fall out of love with you.

But if he could just make one person happy? Well, that would be enough.

The two sat in relative silence for a long while, really only exchanging words when it involved the alcohol or the music. Kenshi didn’t want to find someone else tonight. He wanted to help his friend unwind. He wanted to see Johnny return to the cheerful and egocentric fighter that he knew, rather than this manic man throwing back shots and speaking too loudly. He didn’t need eyes to see how forced Johnny’s smiles were.

Johnny watched his friend carefully. He was spun around on his stool, facing the bar’s floor, stretched out and taking in the noise and the atmosphere. Johnny wished he could look like that; calm and relaxed no matter the situation. Words rolled easily off of his tongue and always sounded natural. Johnny tried to be like that. He usually _was_ like that. But tonight…

“Sonya wants full custody,” he finally said, sounding more sober than he actually felt. Something about the words sucked the alcohol from his system. They made his mind feel sharper, set his skin on edge. “The woman thinks she’s a good enough mother to take _full custody_ of Cassie. She wasn’t even there for her first school play and now she thinks she can do better than _me_.”

Kenshi knew it was something like that. He had expected the truth to come out when they got back to Kenshi’s apartment. Not here, surrounded by people and his words nearly drowned out in the sound.

“Johnny Cage,” Kenshi said slowly, putting down his drink. “I only wish I could be the kind of father to my own son that you are to Cassie.” His voice was low, so low that Johnny could just barely make out the words. But it worked.

Kenshi rarely ever spoke of Takeda. In fact, Johnny hadn’t known he had a son until the boy’s tenth birthday. Kenshi had thrown himself into his work, more than ever. He was insatiable in his bloodlust for the Red Dragon, taking his Special Forces team around the map just to satisfy his frustration. When he finally came back to the States, he told Johnny everything.

It was the first night he had ever seen Kenshi so off his guard. Right now- seeing Kenshi in the low light, with a small sad smile and trying to be comforting- was the second time.

Johnny could get used to it though.

“I want to go home with you tonight,” Johnny then confessed, his voice a little rough. He wasn’t entirely sure what he meant by that. He just wanted a place to rest where he could be himself, and express how he truly felt. He wanted to forget the bar. Forget the woman who brought him there. He wanted to work out the alcohol pumping through his veins and come back to himself. He wanted to be _better_.

And he thought maybe Kenshi could get him there.

 Kenshi chuckled a little, sensing the desperation and confusion in his friend. He needed to leave the bar. Tonight was always doomed to be a failure, Kenshi realized. He was glad they opted to catch a cab to the bar, as Johnny was in no state to drive.  “You are always welcome.”

Kenshi grabbed Johnny to help him up, but was swiftly swatted away. Johnny sat for a moment, pulling himself together. With a loud sigh, he grinned, signally for the bartender to pay his tab. “Alright, everyone!” He announced to the bar, standing up and putting his sunglasses on. “I’m heading out. So you have to pay for your own drinks!” There were some groans from the people around the bar, and the occasional shout of admiration. Johnny laughed in turn, but Kenshi could tell how forced it was. The swordsman couldn’t help but wince. “I love you all. Cage, out!” He said, bouncing out towards the door.

Kenshi followed him, hearing a few people shout out Johnny’s name or ask for a picture or autograph. The man always complied, making their exit take ten times longer than it necessarily needed to be.

Kenshi didn’t mind. He only wished he could hear a real smile in his friend’s voice. Rather than the forced tone and pained jokes.

The Swordsman was mauled by Johnny almost as soon as they walked through the door to his dinky apartment. “Kenshi,” the other man growled, pushing the man’s body against a nearby wall, nosing at his neck.

“You’re not yourself,” Kenshi gently reminded Johnny. He ran his hands through his friend’s hair, still drunk enough to enjoy the buzzing sensation of another human body against his. And he had, on a couple of occasions, enjoyed Johnny. It had been convenient, and pleasurable. But they were young and had agreed each morning after that it was a bad idea. And it was a much worse idea now.

“Don’t want to be myself, Ken.” Johnny grumbled, laying a small kiss on his jaw before peeling himself off. He knew it was a bad idea, somewhere in his alcohol-addled brain. Every other day of the week, he loved being Johnny Cage. He loved being Johnny Cage more than most people will _ever_ love being themselves. But tonight, Johnny Cage was the one Sonya Blade didn’t love anymore. He was the one who “didn’t deserve” to live with his daughter. He was the one who was rejected by his family, accepted only by a blind man in a barely lived-in apartment. He didn’t want to be Johnny Cage right now.

“You don’t want to do this either,” Kenshi said, firmly. He eased Johnny towards the couch. It was too much for both of them, the night too heavy. Feelings get confused. Thoughts get tangled. This isn’t what either of them wanted, he reminded himself. Despite how hard it was to turn down.

“You’re…absolutely right.” Johnny sighed, sliding down on the couch as though he belonged there. Kenshi almost had half the mind to offer Johnny the bed. But he could feel how comfortable he was stretched on the couch, reveling in the familiarity there. “You know, I hate how you’re always right.”

“No you do not,” Kenshi quipped with a small smile, taking off his blazer and hanging it in his closet, sticking his white cane next to it. He heard some rustling on the couch; Johnny getting comfortable, he decided, ready to sleep.

“You are an amazing father,” Kenshi then finally said, his voice quiet, able to truly emphasize the point outside of a crowded bar. “And an amazing husband, I am sure.”

Johnny already had his eyes closed, letting the alcohol wash through his system. He could see lights behind his eyelids, spinning and slipping away. “Yeah yeah. Anyone ever tell you that you talk too much, Neo?” he joked, peaking at Kenshi with one eye open. Kenshi only laughed.

Well, if he could just make one person happy…

“Get some sleep/” Kenshi threw a blanket over Johnny and walked to his bedroom. He left the door a crack open, just in case.  He doubted Johnny would need him, but he liked the openness of it all. He trusted Johnny. And Johnny trusted him. Trusted him enough to tell him everything, even when it hurt to say.

And the two let themselves drift off to sleep, knowing someone cared about them, despite all their flaws. And that would be enough.


End file.
